May It Be
by ElvenScribes
Summary: Of the wife of Thranduil precious little was known. Nothing, it seemed, remained of her within the mighty halls of the Woodland Realm, not even memory. All vestiges of her existence had been wiped clean, she lived on only in the mind of Thranduil himself, and by all accounts it was her death that had driven him at least partly mad. This is a tale of family, of friendship, and love.
1. Chapter 1

p style="text-align: left;"The Elvenking walked on silent feet through the cavernous halls of his fortress and palace. Of late his kingdom had seemed emptier, likely due to the fact that many elvish lives had been lost in the War of the Ring. The loss struck the King soundly, but as was his wont he buried the feelings deep within where they could never be seen. He had come to know much of loss in his long life, too much of it truthfully, and thus he sought now to avoid the memories that brought only pain with them. Still, for one who walked the Elvenking's Halls alone there was little else one could do but dwell on memories. The etched wood beneath his feet was, itself, steeped in the history and tales of his people. So as the memories pushed themselves onto him, whether he willed it or no, Thranduil's ice-blue eyes grew distant and faintly mournful. First had come the loss of his wife... but no, that above all things he could not think on, and quickly Thranduil grasped at another memory, anything else but that, and landed squarely on the moment when Legolas had said he could not return to the Woodland Realm with his father after the Battle of the Five /br /It had been in that moment, when Thranduil had realized that he had driven even his own son away, that the ice which had encased his heart for so long began to crack. The words he had said to Legolas, about his mother loving him more than life itself, had held much more meaning than Legolas would ever understand... and yet, for all of that, for all that it meant to tell his son that much, Thranduil had still let him leave without a word of protest or a single clear declaration of the love he himself felt for his son. After their parting the Elvenking had done his best to keep abreast of his son's movements, yet when the forces of Sauron had converged on Mikrwood from Dol Guldur, the ensuing Battle Under Trees had ended in Thranduil losing track of his son. Now the king did not know whether his son lived or died, and it seemed that once more a mighty blow had been felled against the /br /The ultimate victory of the Woodland Realm in the Battle Under Trees had resulted in Thranduil's territory being stretched to cover all of the northern part of Eryn Lasgalen, Mirkwood re-named as the Wood of Greenleaves, and all the way to the mountains. Yet this seemed a poor consolation prize when faced with the death of so many of his people, and worse, the utter uncertainty which now surrounded the status of his son. Did Legolas live? Had he been slain in his noble pursuit of protecting the ringbearer? Was he lying somewhere now, hurt and alone, with none to care for him and hope far from him? All of these possibilities swirled constantly in Thranduil's mind, and it stood to drive him mad if he could not control his /br /Around him the mighty stone pillars, carved from living rock, seemed to hum with a vibrance and life that Thranduil had felt was leaving him. Though immortal his spirit had suffered too much it seemed, and Thranduil began to feel old in a way he had never understood before. Still, he was king of the Woodland Realm, and there were many who depended on his leadership. As king he had no choice but to lift his head and carry on, letting nothing show of the suffering he felt within. The ice around his heart must be repaired and frozen once more, better to be cold and unyielding than burning in anguish and /br /Abruptly the quiet peace of the Halls was interrupted as one of his guards came racing on silent feet to his king, falling onto his knees before Thranduil with discernible excitement shivering around him. "My King!" The elf gasped, brazenly lifting his eyes to meet Thranduil's, courtly manner forgotten in anticipation of whatever announcement he had to make. Frankly Thranduil could not fathom what news could possibly give rise to such energy, what was left to cause such joy?br /br /Clasping his hands gracefully behind his back, Thranduil quirked a single brow and looked down at the guard. "Speak. What news do you bring to me that is worth such unseemly behaviour." He queried coolly, eyes glinting in satisfaction at the brief look of embarrassment which crossed the other elf's face. Ordinarily Thranduil would not have been so intolerant, but in this moment he was feeling neither benevolent or /br /"Forgive me my King." The elf said, lowering his eyes respectfully once more. "In my joy I forgot myself, but sire..." The guard once more seemed to lose grasp of etiquette and looked up at Thranduil. "Prince Legolas has returned."br /br /For a moment there was only silence. Thranduil stared down at the guard, an unfathomable expression on his countenance. He did not know how to take this news. For so long he had wondered after his son, believing at last that they would never again meet in this life. To now hear that his son was not merely alive but returning to Eryn Lasgalen... it was more than Thranduil could /br /"Bring him to me when he arrives." Thranduil breathed, feeling like weeping as another crack in the ice encasing his heart was /br /"As you command sire." The guard said, springing gracefully to his feet and whirling to leave, pausing only briefly to add. "And the Lady Tauriel accompanies Legolas as well."br /br /"Bring them both to me." Was all that Thranduil could manage before he felt his strength give way entirely, and despite the fact that his guard still watched him Thranduil was powerless to do anything but sink to the ground, his robe billowing about him as his palms rested against the ground, head hanging towards the glossy floor, his eyes glazed /br /His son was returned to him./p  
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	2. Chapter 2

The elf-maid's green cloak was tattered, stained, and dirty. Yet to Tauriel it was her dearest possession. This cloak had accompanied her since she had first encountered the dwarves, first met Kili... and she wore it now in silent memorium to him. The brave soul who had been smaller than her in stature but had stood so tall in spirit and heart. She had loved him, well and truly loved him, no matter how impossible that may have seemed, and it was that love and his subsequent death that had shaped her every move since that first day of meeting.

Now at last she returned to the Woodland Realm, though whether she would be welcomed there was another question entirely. Despite the fact that in the end Thranduil had, at least, understood and empathized with her pain, the mighty Elvenking had ultimately let her banishment stand. As a result Tauriel had been wandering Middle-Earth for the past eighty years, and her involvement in the War of the Ring, while legendary, had also been relatively unheard of among the Elvish population. They would be told of it ere long she supposed, for assuming that Thranduil granted her access she would be compelled to tell him of her adventures whether she preferred anonymity or not. Yet at present she was far more enticed by a more pleasant event that would be borne in the near future.

It had been eighty years since her banishment from the Woodland Realm, and also eighty years since she had seen her childhood friend Legolas. Much had she heard of him, one member of the Fellowship of the Ring which had ultimately led to victory over Sauron, and she greatly longed to see him again and hear of his adventures.

They had a long history it was true. There had been a time when Legolas had vied for her affections, and there had been a time when she had felt that she might be able to return them one day. Then she had met Kili and everything had changed. What Legolas felt for her now she did not know, but she hoped that at least a modicum of friendship would remain between them...and she looked forward to encountering him once again.

She sat in the crook of one of the tallest trees in Eryn Lasgalen, knowing full well that the blonde elf would pass through here on his way to the Elvenking's Halls. Sure enough she caught sight of a flash of blonde among the green of the underbrush, and with a grin she sprang nimbly down before him, pulling her bow taut as she did so and aiming it at him, certain that his would be facing her just as surely.

"It has been far too long my friend. Mae g'ovannen!" She added as an afterthought, beaming with delight, "you are well met!" It was infinitely delightful to see him once more, unharmed and wiser than before, an elf anyone would be proud to know, let alone call a friend.


	3. Chapter 3

The frost had visited early, sprinkling the springy grass with icing, causing the branches to rustle as darts of cold mounted the gushes of wind, screaming the shrill song of winter.

Legolas drew a deep breath, exhaling a whirling cloud of white steam. It spiralled into the air, stretching out with tentative fingers to touch the glossy emerald surface of an oak leaf, before sinking into the shadowed depths of the Greenwood.

For Greenwood it now was. Last time the elf had looked upon his birthplace, it was brooding darkness, the trees beset by an illness that caused them to rot and wither, their insides vomiting grime. The ground had been dark, as if charred, spewing smoke and grovelling insects, and the clack of the spider's legs had been ever present, like the rustling of leaves or the sound of one's own breath.

Now, however, as Legolas stood tensely at the verge of the forest, his eyes were greeted by something altogether different.

It was clean, dry, bright. The path eddied on through hues of brown and soft green, and olive and grey. No blackness, no shadow, except those which the spreads of leaves cast upon themselves. They seemed to be holding their breath, watching the elf standing at the verge of the forest without so much as a sound.

The elf took a step forwards, feeling the skin of frost that covered the ground crunch under his light step. The wind laughed in his ear, a mocking voice, the voice of a child.

Go on it said. Enter your home, Legolas. Or are you afraid? What are you afraid of, Legolas?

Nothing the elf whispered, and closed his eyes. His leather-clad foot ascended, poised,teasing the threshold as it hung in the crisp air. It fell, followed by the other. A leaf quivered, and fell from its branch, swaying from one side to the other in the entrancing dance of death. It touched to the ground with a sigh, and all of a sudden the breeze ran through the trees, causing a cheer and rustle to rise from the green leaves.

The prince of Eryn Lasgalen had returned home.

Legolas felt his pace quicken, his feet noiseless upon the leaf-covered ground. The scents of the forest wafted towards him, of wood and wet soil, the breeze rising soft perfumes of beech and acorn and carrying them with crisp hands towards his nostrils. Suddenly, an abrupt vigour cursed through his body, a sudden tingling energy, and before he knew it Legolas was soaring through the air, his hands and feet barely touching down on wood as he flew from branch to branch, his lithe body gliding and twirling like that of a bird.

By the time he had alighted without a sound on the forest's carpet, he was half way to the fortress. This was the deepest part of the forest, where the trees grew taller than anywhere else, their knotted bark ascending further than the eye could see.

As his finger slowly stroked the ragged surface, laughter touched his brain, memories of happiness so pure that he began to doubt if they were even real. This was Tauriel's favourite part of the forest. Legolas had never asked why, but had followed her here all the same, and he recalled vividly, in saturated hues of white and green, how they had raced up these trees, spitting challenges to each other as to who could climb the highest. They would swing up, weaving through the boughs, until the ground was out of sight and all there was were leaves and blinding sunlight.

But neither of them ever won. Every time the young elf saw the trophy branch, he thought he must be the victor, and with a shout he would grasp it, only to feel another hand close at precisely the same moment, their skin brushing, stone against stone.

Then they would proceed to grunt at each other, and begin flying down the tree to see who could arrive at the bottom first, pushing the other so that they would fall.

And, as if a spectre of his thoughts, something swooped to the ground beside him.

Legolas turned in a flash, his bow drawn, ready to shoot. There was a sharp clink as the tip of his arrowhead touched another, the ringing sound echoing through the forest and abruptly breaking the pillowy softness that had previously basked the environment.

"Tauriel" he mouthed, but the words refused to leave his lips. He stood for a moment, incredulous, and then lowered the bow to his side, swiftly placing the unshot arrow into the quiver at his back.

The elf blinked, and then nodded at her, his eyes slowly surveying her face. It seemed older than before, more wise, etched with lines of experience and grief. But as his gaze reached her eyes, it stayed there, fixed on their depth, like bottomless pools whose surface reflects the night sky's stars.

"Mae Govannen, mellonamin"* he said, a hint of a smile touching the edge of his lips. "Cormamin lindua ele lle**"

*Greetings, my friend.

**My heart sings to see thee.


	4. Chapter 4

The breathless silence of the Greenwood was broken suddenly by the metallic clink that accompanied the kissing of the arrowheads, and with that single ringing sound it seemed that the forest woke once again. A bird trilled past the two elves, singing a little diddy as it flew, and a soft wind suddenly sighed through the branches of the trees, caressing Tauriel's face and making her smile, it was good to be home.

It was odd, the way a single relatively insignificant event could loom so large in a single moment, with every exquisite detail etched into vivid memory. For Tauriel this was one such moment, standing with her feet placed lightly on the hardened ground, facing her old friend once again. The earth was cool to the touch but, beneath the shelter of the trees, the frost which still held sway over the open meadows had retreated, leaving it cool but not icy. The colours of the forest bloomed in her vision, the rich greens and heavy browns melding together while the earthy scent of a healthy woodland tickled her nostrils.

For many years past Tauriel had seen little of the sun and forests. Her journey had taken her into the earthen homes in which Kili would have existed, the great kingdoms beneath the mountains being her abode for many years. The love she had shared with Kili, foreign as it was to the rest of the dwarves, had earned her their trust in spite of it's oddity, and in having the trust of the dwarves of Erebor she had found many doors open to her beyond that one dwarvish kingdom.

All of this and more she knew she would have to share with Legolas, and on some level she feared doing so. He had stood by her throughout their dealings with the dwarves, even though it had undoubtedly pained him deeply to see her falling for a dwarf over him, and yet ultimately she had let him down and turned away from whatever feelings he held for her. A rift like that could be difficult to mend, and while he seemed pleased to see her now, she wondered how he would feel after further time spent in her presence. Tauriel supposed that, as with most things, she would simply have to hope for the best.

His reply to her words caused the elf-maid to smile and duck her head, relieved and pleased that he seemed to be as happy to see her as she was to see him.

"Truthfully I had feared you might not be so pleased to see me." She admitted softly, lowering her bow in her stead and slipping it onto her back, placing the arrow into its quiver. Much had passed in the time since they had last seen each other, and while both remained the same in body and memory...they were very different in spirit now. She paused for a few brief moments to study him before smiling. "Lle maa quel."*

Tauriel meant it too, given that he had been on, perhaps, the most dangerous quest of them all. Legolas seemed to stand taller now, more sure of himself in a different way than he had been when they had parted. It was more than mere confidence that he possessed, it was a sort of certainty, as though he knew his place in the world and was secure in it. Oddly he reminded her of some sort of forest cat; powerful, certain, and beautiful.

The elf-maid grinned at him, the suddenly youthful expression on her face lighting her eyes and standing in stark contrast to the worn material of her clothes. "What has happened to my childhood friend!" She exclaimed with an easy laugh, stepping closer to Legolas and surveying him once more with an amused glance. "You have the look of a true prince to you now." Tauriel voiced ruefully, aware of the ringing truth in those words and feeling suddenly distant from him again.

The two of them may have been childhood friends, and had now gone through events that would have made them equals on the battlefield, but in peace time the difference in their class was once more apparent, and there was nothing Tauriel could do to stop it from influencing things. Thranduil had made his position clear enough on the matter, and Tauriel would not come between them, not again.

"Hîr vuin."** She murmured dryly, sweeping into an elegant and respectful curtsy, knowing that it would likely drive him somewhat mad to have her treating him like royalty. Still, it was something he had best become accustomed to quickly, after all she could never be anything more to him than a loyal subject. A brief quiver of surprise struck her with that thought, had she hoped for more? It was a startling thought, and her mind flew back to memories of Kili. A part of Tauriel had always felt that one day Legolas' and her might be together, but in meeting Kili she had found that Legolas' feelings for her began to seem to be more a sort of infatuation than a true love, and she had doubted the feelings would linger.

Standing now before the elf whom had been her friend for so very long, Tauriel wondered if she had been wrong to believe that. Yet if, and it was in her mind a very large if, Legolas still harboured some sort of feelings for her, the grim reality was that they could still never come to fruition. Whether Tauriel's heart changed in the nature of it's affection for him or not, King Thranduil would never permit his beloved son to marry below his station, he had made that abundantly clear.

Not wishing to dwell on the subject further, Tauriel took a step away from Legolas and inclined her head deeper into the forest in the direction of the Elvenkings Halls. "Shall we go to see your father? I may not be welcome, I do not know whether your father's heart has changed in regards to my banishment." Tauriel spoke softly, pulling her eyes away from those of Legolas to look towards her childhood home. She dearly longed to return, yet knew that it was not as simple as that. "Perhaps it would be better if I stayed here..." she mused thoughtfully, curious to see where Legolas would stand on this issue.

*You look well

**My lord


	5. Chapter 5

Legolas blinked, searching her face for memories, vestiges of the old friend she had once been. Once the mere sight of her had brought back a wave of feelings, smells, sounds, sensations, etched into their minds after hundreds of years of close friendship.  
But now, perhaps after all this time, it felt more difficult, the certainty of remembrance extinguished, spluttering out like a candle in breeze. Yes, if he searched her features, tracing every line and detail, the memories would glide back to him, small scenes and moments which would be forever engraved in her voice, in her gestures, in her touch...  
But it was not the same. Perhaps it was the time that had separated them, or the perils they had both faced during the time that they were beyond the sheltering arms of their homeland. Or maybe it was what they had seen, the atrocities beyond words, things that left jagged scars on them, never to be healed.  
But all Legolas grew aware of, moment by moment, was that a breach had formed between them, hewing apart those two immortal souls who had once walked side by side. And all he could do was reach out, the tips of his fingers grazing air, and then folding, clenching, lacking the warmth of her skin, only darkness and wind.

He shouldn't have left her.

The elf drew a sharp breath, and his eyes flickered to the ground. Banishment, the worst possible fate for an elf, for Tauriel, whose spirit had been forged by the whipping of wind as she swung from bough to bough, sculpted by the scents of bark and soil , who had been lulled to sleep every night by the melody of trickling water. Yet, as the Battle of the Five armies had drawn to its end, he had left, walked away without the slightest token of farewell. The prince had done as his father had bid him, his mind narrowed to the one task, to escaping the cage which, unknowingly, he had locked himself in. He hadn't begged his father to forgive her, he hadn't stood by her side when she needed it. Legolas would never forgive himself for that.

And it was the most sinister of emotions that had led him to this, the most ashaming of motivators: Jealousy. His heart had ached, throbbed with this indefinible feeling, when a dwarf, a mere mortal, had captured Tauriel's heart with the simple utterance of a few words, while he, the prince, had stood by her side for hundreds of years. That jealousy had never turned to fury, but still he had passively resented the dwarf for so long, rebuking his friend for her betrayal.

That was until he realised that it was no betrayal. He had always known that Tauriel's heart was hers to command, as was his, that it belonged to no one except herself. It had been during the War of the Ring ,when his companions were wrapped in blankets of sleep, that the realisation had come to him, and the emotions he had been harbouring for so long fell to his feet. He loved her, yes, and that meant that those feelings were false, a casket in which to hide his own pain. If he had wanted her, they would have been true. If he craved her love despite the cost to her, they would have been true. But he simply loved her, and that made them as false as the lies of men.

"Not pleased to see you? Mellonamin, Lle lakwenien?* Your presence honours me, I believed you would not…" his voice faltered, crystal gaze searching her face for some taint of resent.

But in stead of bitterness, he found a sudden burst of youth in her visage which made her eyes light up with lively brightness, just as if they were children once more, giggling at an unseemly joke. A prince. Was that all she saw in him? Legolas had once believed this also, but the War had taught him that one is not who he is born to be, but who the world shapes him to be. He may be a prince in part, but also a warrior, a ranger, a friend. And a friend he wished to be to her, naught else. The elf understood that they would never be anything more to each other, and though once he had harboured that hope, now it was a fate he deemed impossible, distant, and which he would not pursue. All he wished for was that they would never be anything less.

Yet, it seemed so. The wind stirred, rustling the fallen leaves around them as Tauriel swooped into curtsy. The kind a subject would give to their king, or a warrior give to their lord. Her copper hair shone under the dying rays of jaded sunlight, a halo of nobility downpoured, submitting to the rule of another when truly it should fly free, unhindered, uncaged.  
And royalty was that cage. His royalty.

"Tauriel" he murmured with a start, voice quivering as a bowstring does after fire. "Mani naa lle umien?**" With a sudden movement, his hand flew through the air and alighted gently on her arm with a touch so light it could be mistaken for a falling leaf.

Legolas felt a faint ache in his chest as she suddenly moved backwards, causing his fingers to abruptly graze air, still imbued with the warmth of her sleeve. The elf's eyebrows came down slightly before relaxing, his expression once again set in stone, gaze sweeping the forest ahead as she pointed towards the fortress.

The prince grew suddenly wary. He hadn't thought of this much during his journey, but had focused on memories and the contours of rocks and spear-shaped clouds, not of what lay on the path ahead. Now, he felt a small pang of uneasiness as he pondered about the meeting with the King, the man who was so familiar and yet so distant, a faraway figure encased in ice, who despite having met with him near every day, Legolas knew not a thing about.

However, as his attention flickered onto Tauriel's words, the elf bowed his head and took a step forwards without breaching the proximity that she had clearly set.

"What does your heart desire, Tauriel? If you do truly wish to return, I shall speak with him . After all these years he surely misses your skill, and would rapidly accept your return for the good it would do to his kingdom. Although, I cannot say if his contempt will cease, or if you will ever be in his favour as you were before."

Legolas hesitated, words quivering on his lips, words which would convey that he, too, wished that she would return, that he felt she was the only thing that was the slightest bit familiar in this changed kingdom. She was all he recognised save for the trees and the earth. Perhaps Tauriel was all that was left of the old life he had left behind, and even she was changed, as transformed as he was.

"You may accompany me, if you wish it" he uttered dryly as he began to stride along the path, the fallen leaves rustling in his wake and forming small whirlpools in the growing dimness.

*Are you joking?  
** What are you doing?


End file.
